Rebirth as a Demonic Cultivator: Starting with a Zombie Planet

Chapter 69: Rest Assured, Martial Uncle, I Will Definitely Complete the Task!

Chu Xuan and his two juniors finally deposited the mortal refugees at a settlement generously dubbed “Plains City.”

It was the first mortal enclave established under the protection of the Extreme Yin Cave, though it had only existed for a little over two months. The “city” consisted of a mere two intersecting dirt roads and a few hundred crude dwellings, housing just over two thousand mortals. In truth, it was barely a village.

Given that Wuzhou was a festering wasteland crawling with venomous insects, feral beasts, and wandering evil spirits, the absolute priority was erecting towering defensive walls. The construction of permanent homes, shops, and infrastructure had been indefinitely postponed in favor of basic survival.

Fortunately, Chu Xuan had no intention of playing architect or babysitter. As a Foundation Establishment cultivator, he was a pillar of the Extreme Yin Cave’s martial might. Escorting the mortals this far had already earned him their fanatical gratitude; the tedious, exhausting logistics of managing a refugee camp were beneath him. He dumped the supervisory duties onto the laps of Qi Condensation disciples like Chen Ge and Wei Hua.

After a brief exchange of instructions with Wei Hua, Chen Ge led Chu Xuan out of Plains City, heading north.

Finding the junior’s travel speed painfully inefficient, Chu Xuan simply hauled Chen Ge onto his Heavenly Dipper Flying Sword. They tore through the sky.

Not long after, they descended outside a hidden market nestled between verdant mountains and a winding river.

Chen Ge stumbled off the blade, rubbing his temples with a pale, dizzy expression. “Martial Uncle,” he groaned awkwardly, “your flying sword is too fast. My head is spinning…”

Chu Xuan chuckled faintly. He clapped a hand onto the junior’s shoulder, injecting a clinical, precise surge of spiritual power that instantly purged the vertigo from Chen Ge’s system.

Color returned to Chen Ge’s face, replaced by deep reverence. “Thank you, Martial Uncle!”

Before stepping into the market, both men applied disguises, shifting their facial structures and auras until they were entirely unrecognizable.

As they navigated the bustling stalls, Chen Ge briefed Chu Xuan on the local dynamics. The market was nameless—a makeshift hub originally formed by the first wave of Tianyin Sect vanguard cultivators deployed to Wuzhou. Word had spread, drawing opportunistic Rogue Cultivators from the surrounding regions like flies to a carcass. Order was loosely maintained by a handful of the strongest Foundation Establishment cultivators, who generally couldn’t be bothered to intervene unless someone caused catastrophic trouble.

“Let’s survey the demand,” Chu Xuan murmured, his eyes sweeping over the stalls.

Chen Ge trailed closely behind.

Just as expected, the market was flooded with demonic path commodities. Blood Beads were the undisputed currency of desperation, flying out of vendors’ hands the moment they were displayed. Every single cultivator in this nameless market wore a disguise, stripping away their “righteous” hypocrisy. Their collective mindset was obvious: *I’m wearing a fake face, so I’m buying demonic artifacts to survive. If you have a problem with it, go cry to the Tianyin Sect’s main hall!*

Aside from Blood Beads, Yin Corpses and Gu Insects were in ferocious demand.

Chu Xuan paused to watch a bidding war over a Middle Grade aptitude Yin Corpse. The surrounding cultivators were red-faced, barking out escalating prices until the undead asset finally sold for a staggering three hundred small Spirit Stones.

It was an absurd markup. A standard Middle Grade Magical Artifact only cost two hundred small Spirit Stones. Unless a Yin Corpse had an exceptionally high cultivation realm, it was generally priced identically to an artifact of the same grade. Yet, this corpse had sold at a fifty percent premium! It was a glaring indicator of just how desperate these cannon-fodder cultivators were to bolster their combat power before being thrown into the Wuzhou meat grinder.

As for the Gu Insects, a quick glance at the breeds revealed that many had been secretly cultivated by the stall owners themselves, only now being brought into the light. Gu Insects were flesh-eating parasites, strictly classified as demonic path tools. Yet, it seemed half the “righteous” vanguard had been breeding them in the dark. Unfortunately, they were all First Revolution Gu—useless to Chu Xuan, who required Second Revolution specimens.

Beyond the macabre, the market offered the standard orthodox staples: pills, formations, talismans, and artifacts. Chu Xuan scanned the inventory, finding nothing worth his capital.

“Martial Uncle,” Chen Ge whispered, leaning in. “I have a few long-term clients who have already purchased a large quantity of Demon Beast Blood Beads from me. Would you like to…”

Chu Xuan smiled. He unclipped a Storage Bag from his waist and tossed it into the junior’s hands. “Liquidate these assets for me. You take a ten percent commission.”

Chen Ge blinked, opening the bag.

His breath hitched. He was instantly paralyzed by the sheer, industrial scale of the contraband packed inside.

Blood Beads! Condensed Yin Evil Qi! Low Grade Magical Artifacts! Middle Grade Magical Artifacts! Rejuvenation Pills! Spirit Recovery Water!

*Heavens… just how wealthy is Martial Uncle Chu?!*

Ten percent of this payload… Chen Ge swallowed hard. It was as if a literal mountain of Spirit Stones was about to crush him.

But the junior wasn’t entirely blinded by greed. He looked up, his expression tight with anxiety. “Martial Uncle, this is too much wealth. If I flash this kind of inventory, someone will definitely try to gut me for it.”

Chu Xuan didn’t argue. He simply drew his Corpse Nurturing Tower and gave it a casual tap.

The air temperature plummeted. A lean, heavily muscled Yin Corpse materialized, its skin the color of bruised iron. It stood as though cloaked in living shadows, every fiber of its body coiled with terrifying, explosive violence.

“Little Leopard,” Chu Xuan commanded, his voice devoid of inflection. “You are his shadow. If anyone dares to lay a finger on Chen Ge, butcher them.”

“Roar…” Little Leopard exhaled a guttural, rattling growl, baring a mouthful of jagged fangs.

The sudden manifestation of the undead monstrosity caused the entire street to freeze. Cultivators mid-haggle snapped their mouths shut, their eyes wide with terror as the suffocating pressure of death washed over them.

The aura was unmistakable.

*A Corpse General!*

And the master of a Corpse General could only be a Foundation Establishment cultivator!

All around them, disguised heads bowed in rapid succession. No one dared to meet Chu Xuan’s gaze, terrified of offending a Foundation Establishment Great Cultivator.

Chen Ge’s chest swelled with immense relief and gratitude. “Rest assured, Martial Uncle, I will definitely complete the task!”

“Go. I expect good results,” Chu Xuan said, patting his shoulder with a faint smile.

He watched Chen Ge disappear into the crowd, flanked by the hulking undead bodyguard. Then, Chu Xuan turned and strode purposefully toward the tallest structure in the market.

Like the market itself, the building was nameless, designed to look utterly unremarkable. Had Chen Ge not explicitly pointed it out as the teahouse jointly owned by the three Foundation Establishment overlords, Chu Xuan would have walked right past it.

“Halt. This teahouse is not open to the public.”

A burly Qi Condensation cultivator stepped into the doorway, blocking Chu Xuan’s path. The bouncer crossed his arms, his tone dripping with condescension.

Chu Xuan didn’t waste breath on words. He simply released the floodgates of his Foundation Establishment aura.

*Thud.*

The burly cultivator hit the floorboards, his knees cracking against the wood. The condescension vanished, replaced by sheer, suffocating panic. Sweat instantly drenched his robes.

“S-Senior!” he stammered, pressing his forehead to the floor. “This Junior was blind! I did not know Senior was a Foundation Establishment Great Cultivator! Please, spare my life!”

“Get up,” Chu Xuan said coolly, stepping past the trembling man. “Go fetch your three Foundation Establishment Fellow Daoists. Tell them I have substantial business to discuss.”

“Yes! Yes, at once! I will send a voice transmission to the three Seniors immediately!”

Scrambling to his feet, the bouncer fired off a talisman and practically bowed his way backward up the stairs, ushering Chu Xuan into a luxurious private room on the third floor.

“What tea would Senior prefer?” the bouncer asked, his voice trembling with eager subservience. “This Junior has Sparrow Tongue Tips, a specialty of Yu Ling Mountain. It leaves a lingering fragrance on the—”

“Bitter Hair Peak,” Chu Xuan interrupted. “Do you have it?”

The bouncer’s face lit up with a sycophantic smile. “Yes, yes! It seems Senior is a true connoisseur! Bitter Hair Peak is harsh on the first sip, but the aftertaste is profound…”

He frantically brewed the tea, setting the steaming cup before Chu Xuan with trembling hands. “Does Senior require any pastries?”

Chu Xuan waved a hand dismissively. “Enough. Wait downstairs.”

“Yes, yes. If Senior needs anything, just call. One of the three Foundation Establishment Seniors is already in the building and will be up shortly.”

The bouncer bowed deeply, keeping his eyes glued to the floor as he backed out of the room, terrified that a single wrong move might prompt Chu Xuan to snap his neck.

As the door clicked shut, Chu Xuan took a sip of the bitter tea and chuckled softly.

This was the reality of the cultivation world. To the desperate masses at the Qi Condensation stage, a Foundation Establishment cultivator wasn’t just a superior—they were the absolute, unquestionable law of heaven.